This writing is less the craft heavy and prosody poised work that keeps process hidden behind closed doors of the poet’s writing studio and their intellectual hesitance, and more the freestyle, live over home-made beats push for moments of flow.

Our time speaks, as every time does, its very own language. It speaks foremost, even when writing and writing a great deal. The contemporary person wants to understand passion and have it understood, and many people—

I start to feel that I am not a part of a line of action, a progression of disruptive movement causing a disturbance in air particles which domino all the way to their disruption of my ears but that somewhere in the middle ground…